Winter
I stand in speckled light
The shade is uncompromising this time of year
I hear children laughing and playing
Their voices become cheerful echoes in the
outer perimeter of my mind
The eye in my mind displays the approaching cold
and I zip my jacket
Rub my hands
I am like a lizard entombed by cold
A sloth who is moving ever slowly
Into hard fortunes
An English Plane tree dropping a cloak of leaves
onto lichen laced statues as frozen as I
– Scott McDonald
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